Chances Are (24 page)

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Authors: Barbara Bretton

BOOK: Chances Are
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“You realize he’s going to be a heartbreaker in a few years, don’t you?” Olivia teased. “The quiet ones always are.”
“Stop by someday around suppertime,” Claire said. “You’ll be praying for silence before you finish your salad.”
“Oh, wait!” Maddy reached for her enormous tote bag, which was slung over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “I have the print-outs of those pictures I took of the kids at the Easter egg hunt last month.”
“Took you long enough,” Gina said. “I figured we’d get to see them by the Fourth of July.”
Maddy whipped a folder out of her tote bag and removed a sheaf of glossy photo papers. “I’m no Scavullo,” she said, “but you can’t take a bad picture of those kids.” She sifted through the pictures. “Okay, Gina, here’s your tribe and one of the whole group together . . . Claire, here you go . . . there’s even one of Kathleen.”
Olivia and Lucy crowded around as Gina and Claire examined the pictures.
“I’m impressed,” Gina said. “Not a bad picture in the bunch. I even like the one of my mother and me.”
Claire’s eyes went all misty at the sight of the eldest of her four daughters standing with her at the foot of the church steps, smiling broadly for Maddy’s camera. God, how much she missed her kids. “She looks so grown-up,” she said, trying very hard not to burst into tears in front of everyone. “Wasn’t it yesterday they were all running across the yard, looking for Easter eggs?”
“Oh come on, Mommy,” Olivia said with a gentle poke in the ribs. “They’ll be moving back in with you before you know it.”
Maddy laughed out loud. “Let my story be a warning to you, Claire. Sooner or later, we all run home to Mother.”
If Mother has a four-star B and B on the ocean . . .
“I love this one of Billy with Gina’s kids.” Olivia leaned closer to inspect the photo. “Look at those freckled faces! He and little Joey could be brothers!”
Chapter Thirteen
“WAS IT SOMETHING I said?” Olivia asked as the last car backed down the driveway, then disappeared up the street. “I meant it as a compliment. They’re adorable children. What on earth happened?”
Claire considered her clueless friend. “I can’t believe you’ve lived here this long and you never heard about Gina and Billy.” She recited the condensed version, the one minus all of the pain, anger, and humiliation.
Olivia sank down onto a chair. “I had no idea. I knew your husband slept around, but Gina—” She looked up at Claire with open curiosity. “And you let the bitch into your house?”
Claire poured them each a large mug of coffee, then sat down opposite Olivia. “He fucked half the women in town, Liv. I’d have nobody left to talk to if I start getting picky.”
“So is Joe Billy’s son?”
The question stung much more than Claire had expected it would. It was one she had asked herself many times since her husband died, and each time she came back with the same answer. The connection between Billy and Gina had been a strong one. She couldn’t deny that. It might even have been the real thing.
But she was the one he married. The one he always came back to. The mother of his children. His wife. His partner. His widow.
“No,” she said then more clearly, “no, he isn’t. They ended it for good a couple of years before Billy died.”
“You say it so easily.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice.”
Be careful where you tread, Olivia. This is my family you’re talking about.
Olivia fell silent as she stared into her coffee cup.
“Forget it,” Claire said after awhile, her flash of anger subsiding. “You can sit here all night, and you’ll still never understand.”
“Do you?”
“Sometimes.”
Olivia arched a brow. “And the rest of the time?”
Claire laughed softly. “The rest of the time I think I must have been crazy.”
“I thought after you came back here things got better.”
“They did for a while. When we found out we were expecting Billy Jr.—” She shook her head. “I know it sounds corny as hell, but those were the best nine months of my life.” They had been happy together, really happy, and the whole family had benefited. “The girls used to rush into our room every morning at the crack of dawn and fling themselves into bed with us and we’d all cuddle and talk about what we were going to do that day. They loved to press their ears against my belly and listen for the baby.” She laughed softly. “I never knew exactly what they expected to hear but . . .” Her voice drifted away into memory.
“This is probably a hell of a time to give you this.” Olivia reached into the soft leather purse resting next to her mug of tea and withdrew a small white envelope with a foreign stamp in the upper right-hand corner. She placed it facedown on the table. “Remember what I said to you when you told me you were going back up to New Jersey with Billy?”
“That was a long time ago, Liv.” Almost nine years. A lifetime. “It’s ancient history.”
Olivia leaned forward, attention riveted to Claire. “I said to be very sure you knew what you were doing, because you and Corin would never get a second chance if you went back to Billy.”
The muscles in Claire’s jaw tightened. She could almost hear her molars grinding into dust. “I remember.”
“He turned down this documentary because he didn’t want to—”
“I know why he turned it down,” Claire broke in. “You already told me.”
“I mean, he’s my brother, and he’s never even seen my house or my store. He’s stayed away from Paradise Point out of respect for your feelings.”
So that was what he had told his sister. “I thought he stayed away because he was in Afghanistan.”
“I told you that, too?”
“No,” she said. “I saw his name mentioned in an article.”
“You Googled him.”
“I wouldn’t Google God if He had a Web site.” She pretended to yawn behind her hand. “Is this going someplace, Liv, because—”
“Here you go, Mrs. O’Malley.” Claire slid the envelope across the table to Claire. “Guess who’s coming to dinner.”
 
CLAIRE WAS STILL sitting at the kitchen table hours later, when her father came down for breakfast.
“Late night or early morning?” he asked as he pulled a container of orange juice from the fridge.
“I’m so tired I don’t know,” she said, yawning. “God, how I wish I still smoked.”
“No, you don’t,” Mike Meehan said, pouring her a glass of juice. He set it down on the table in front of her. “Paper come yet?”
“I’m too tired to check.”
“We’ll wait until Billy gets up and send him out to look.”
Claire managed to stifle another yawn. “Sounds like a plan.”
“Poker game ran pretty late last night. I heard Livvy out here until all hours.”
“Sorry if we kept you up, Pop. I thought we were being quiet.”
“Did you clean up again? I always said you were born holding an inside straight.”
“I lost,” she said, shaking her head in disbelief. “I was so bad I made Maddy look good.”
“Nobody’s that bad.” Mike had watched a few hands the last time the game was held at Claire’s, and he still couldn’t believe anyone would fold with a pair of kings showing.
“Liv said to tell you hello.”
“I was up. She could’ve told me herself.” Like every other male in Paradise Point, Mike treasured face time with Olivia. His stature had increased considerably when it became known he had met Olivia years ago down in Florida.
“She still hasn’t recovered from seeing you in your jockeys last month.” She polished off her juice. “So what kept you up? Another John Wayne marathon on TNT?”

Sands of Iwo Jima, The Searchers,
and
Flying Leather-necks.
That Brad Pott couldn’t hold a candle to The Duke.”
“Pitt.”
“Whatever. The Duke—now there was a movie star. You went to see a John Wayne movie, and you knew what you were going to get.”
The Duke before dawn was more than she could cope with. “What we both need is a shot of caffeine.” She pushed her chair away from the table and stood up, stretching.
“What’s this?” Corin’s letter dangled between her father’s fingers.
Damn. She had completely forgotten it was lying there on the table like a forgotten occasion of sin.
“Nothing.” She grabbed it from him and stuffed it in the pocket of her jeans. No point reliving those thrilling days of yesteryear when she had taken a walk on the wild side at Del Mar Vista, Phase II.
“Looks like something to me. You don’t see too many Afghanistan postmarks these days.”
“It’s Liv’s,” she said, which was factual if not entirely truthful. “She left it behind.”
“It’s from that brother of hers, right?”
There was no point in denying the obvious. “Corin signed a contract to photograph a companion book to the documentary. He sent me a courtesy note through Liv to let me know.”
“Now you got me wishing I still smoked.” Mike dragged a rough hand through what was left of his hair. “I wondered how long it would take him to show up after Billy died.”
“So tell me how you really feel, Dad.” As if she hadn’t heard more than enough of his opinions when the interlude with Corin had been going on.
“I told you then, and I’m telling you now. He had no business making a play for you.”
“It takes two,” she reminded her father. “I’m every bit as much to blame for what happened between us as he is.” Maybe more. Corin had been single at the time, while she was still a married woman. Separated, but married. They had never slept together but it was only the fear of God instilled by Claire’s Catholic upbringing that had kept her out of Corin’s bed.
“He’s not right for you. He wasn’t then, and he never will be.”
“I think I’m old enough to decide who, if anyone, is right for me.”
“He reminds me of Billy, God rest his soul.”
“The Y chromosome is the only thing those two had in common.” Billy had been a local boy who dug his roots deep into the town where he was born, while Corin had hit the road as soon as he was old enough to drive. Yet Billy was the one who couldn’t keep his pants zipped, while Corin had been blindsided by his wife’s infidelity.
“Mark my words, it’s going to start up again. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
“Aren’t you reading too much into this, Pop?” All the same things she had been reading into his note since Olivia handed it to her eight long hours ago. “The photographer they had signed to handle the stills for the book was diagnosed with cancer last week and called in a favor. That’s all there is to it.”
“I wasn’t born yesterday. One look at that postmark, and I knew trouble was brewing.”
“All this because Liv left a letter behind.” She threw in an eye roll for emphasis. “Good thing she didn’t leave her diary. You’d be in CCU on life support.”
“You always did have a smart mouth.”
“It’s genetic.”
“You don’t need that kind of problem,” Mike said. “He’s not for you. He never was.”
“There’s no problem. What happened between us is long over, Pop. A lot’s happened since then. Believe me, we won’t be picking up where we left off.”
“Your mouth to God’s ear. That’s all I’m saying.”
Outside, the faintest glimmer of dawn seeped through the curtained windows.
“I’m going to regret this in about three hours,” she said with a groan. The days of tearing through a day on little or no sleep were long gone. She would look like her own grandmother before the day was through.
“I heard Tony Fenelli’s son ask you out for pizza.”
That woke her up. “I’d appreciate it if you’d quit listening in on private conversations.” This was worse than when she was a teenager. At least then she had her four sisters on hand to share the parental scrutiny.
“You don’t want somebody to hear, take it outside.”
“This is my house. If I want to talk to somebody, I’ll talk to them.”
“So don’t complain if I overhear.”
“Now I understand why Mom wanted to put a cow bell around your neck.”
“I like Fenelli. He got a bum deal from that wife of his. You should go out with him.”
She couldn’t help grinning. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I saw him yesterday at the bar and told him to call me.”
“Leave the kid home and have some fun. I’ll take care of him.”
“We’ll see . . . maybe. Just don’t ask Lilly over if I do. I don’t want anyone ironing my magazines.” She stifled yet another yawn. “I suppose you heard about my new job, too.”
“You decided to sell Mary Kay with your sister Frankie?”
“Not even close,” she said, delighted that she finally found a piece of information he hadn’t finagled, eavesdropped, or lucked his way into. “Start the coffee, and I’ll tell you about it over pancakes.”
 
“PBS MUST STARVE those people,” Maddy said as she and Rose finished clearing away the breakfast dishes later that morning. “When I told the sound guy we were out of cherry preserves, he started sobbing, and I had to look away.”
“They have healthy appetites,” her mother said, smiling even as she cast a cautious eye toward the doorway. “I like that in my guests.”
Which was a kind way of saying they were both counting the days until Maddy was safely tucked away at Cuppa with her computer and her ledger books.
“I promised Olivia I would stop by this afternoon and look through some of the paperwork.” She topped off the sugar bowl and eyeballed the salt and pepper shakers. “I figured on doing it after lunch, if it’s okay with you.”
“I was hoping you’d be around later. Lucy is bringing over some fabric samples. I thought we could—” She stopped. “You do what you need to do, honey. There’s plenty of time to deal with the dress later.”
“No, no. I can stop by Olivia’s after I pick Hannah up at the bus stop. I’m dying to see what Lucy has in mind.”
The two women looked at each other and burst into laughter.
“Bizarro world,” Maddy said, shaking her head.

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